


Too Many Hands (Won't) Spoil the Pot

by morecivilizedage



Series: I'm in Love with a Fairy Tale [2]
Category: Bärenhäuter | Bearskin (Fairy Tale), Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Pining, Some Plot, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-07
Updated: 2016-09-07
Packaged: 2018-08-13 13:24:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7978264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morecivilizedage/pseuds/morecivilizedage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fives made a bet with the Devil Krell that he could last five years, five months, and five days without bathing or washing or trimming his hair or cutting his nails.  He won.  Now he just has to convince his lovers that they're what he wants.</p><p>Or, well, one lover in particular.  Tup's been on board since day one.  (Or, well, actually Day 1192 by his counting, but that's not important.)</p><p>(He was never actually mad about the broom, either.  Honestly, he thought it was hilarious.  Echo did too, asshole twin brother that he was.)</p><p> </p><p>More fairy-tale silliness, this time with threesomes, slightly more plot, and sloppy make-outs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Many Hands (Won't) Spoil the Pot

**Author's Note:**

  * For [norcumi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/norcumi/gifts).



“Your lover _bear_ is at the door!”  Dogma hollered from where he was chopping up the vegetables for tonight’s stew dinner into chunks of perfectly identical sizes.

“Fives is not a bear!” Tup yelled back as Dogma traced the thumping of his feet down from their cabin’s upstairs loft to the front door.  Dogma could easily imagine the eyeroll.

“Sure fooled me!” was his reply, trying to keep the smirk from his voice.  It wasn’t entirely an exaggeration.  The first time they had met Fives—had it really been two years, now?—he had fallen against their door, slumped and unkempt from nearly three years absent of grooming, completely sunken into the rangy bear-skin he called a cloak, the creature’s head easily covering his face.  Smacking Fives with the broom was a fair reaction to finding what seemed like a diseased bear against your doorstep, even if Tup gave him shit for it ever after.

The story made Tup smile and laugh every time he thought of it, and seeing him so honestly happy was worth it.  Fives had even forgiven him… eventually…

It was about then that Dogma realized that after the sound of the door opening, it had been suspiciously silent.  None of the loud clomping of Fives’ ragged boots, none of Tup’s excited chattering whenever the (bear) man came by for his frequent visits, no exclaiming over Fives’ gifts and smiles and stories of the world he’d travelled.

Dumping the last of the vegetables in the stew pot as though nothing was wrong, Dogma sidled over carefully to grab for the sturdy broom that had served as his trusty weapon.   He crept oh so quietly and carefully over the doorway when the sight stopped him cold.  He dropped his broom.  It fell to the ground with a loud clatter.

Tup and the tall stranger leapt apart as though their faces has not been locked in a desperate battle of tongues.  Dogma could feel his face flush as Tup’s tongue darted out wet kiss-bruised lips, and he hastily adverted his eyes, shifting his gaze to instead take in the stranger.  The stranger grinned—perfect goatee and all—with absolutely no shame.

“Dogma,” the man said—dressed up in her majesty’s officer’s uniform with perfectly shined buttons (but the collar was askew; his fingers twitched to fix it)—and Dogma’s heart stopped.  That was _Fives’ voice._   No wonder Tup had been… Dogma was sure he stuttered out something, but he couldn’t have told you what words left his mouth as he fled back to the kitchen.

This was… this was all too much.

He wasn’t going to cry into his seasoned-exactly-to-the-recipe stew, damn it.  His shoulders hunched a moment, curling up, before he took a deep breath and shoved his complicated feelings down into his gut.  Tup was happy.  That’s what mattered.  If Tup was ever going to be happy with just Dogma he would have been a long, long time ago.  This was… this was fine.

“Hey,” Fives said from behind him, and Dogma nearly jumped from the sound of Fives right behind him, whipping around and only just remembering to drop the ladle back into the stew-pot before accidentally slamming it into Fives’ face.  Fives ever-present grin grew a hint more sheepish and apologetic.  “You never let me greet you, you know.”

Dogma turned back towards his cooking, trying to hide the blush on his face from the casual way that Fives shared his space so closely.

“After all the times you’ve barged in, you don’t need—,” Dogma began to say into the stew-pot, until Fives finger’s gently turning his head back cut him off.

 “Yeah,” Fives said, voice quieter and more serious than Dogma had ever heard it, “I kinda do.”  Both of Fives hands reached up to cup Dogma’s face, as Dogma froze, uncertain.  He didn’t know the meaning of the searching look in Fives’ eyes, or why he felt so hot and his cheeks were burning up.

Fives leaned in slowly, telegraphing all his movements, but it wasn’t until Fives’ dry lips touched his that Dogma realized it was a kiss, surprisingly gentle in a way that Dogma didn’t even know Fives could be.  For a moment he was caught in it, melting at the touch, before the situation intruded and Dogma pressed his hands against Fives’ chest.  Fives broke away immediately.

“Is something wrong?” Fives asked, and he sounded so concerned and confused and Dogma could hardly stand it.  How _could_ he?  How _dare_ he?

“How can you… Why would you… Tup–!”

“What about me?” Tup asked, and gods if people would stop sneaking up behind him and scaring the living daylights out of him.

“I’m so sorry–” Dogma began, but Tup cut him off with a gentle finger to the lips and that bright, bright smile that Dogma could never ever say no to.

“Why?” Tup asked, before leaning in and placing his lips where his finger used to be, and Dogma’s brain helpfully decided to shut down all higher reasoning and instead kiss back.  He felt flushed and hot, the feeling of Fives as the man pressed up against his back, one hand holding his hip and rubbing at it soothingly while the other seemed to be twining with Tup’s free hand.

“Did you think we’d be happy without you?” Fives whispered into Dogma’s ear, and Dogma moaned into Tup’s kiss, soft desperate sounds as Fives lips brushed against the shell of Dogma’s ear and then lower and lower, tracing along his neck and down to his shoulder.

When Tup finally broke away, leaving both of them gasping for breath, Fives stopped his determined attack on Dogma’s shoulder, and instead leaned over it, craning his neck as Tup smirked and dove right into another kiss.  With Fives.  Dogma was glad he was sandwiched tightly between the two of them, because he was very sure he’d forgotten how to breathe.  Or stand.  Or do anything really.

Watching them was… Dogma’s mouth felt dry, and he swallowed, his eyes wide and face a deep red as he tried to take in every moment of their kiss.

When they finally broke away, soft and grinning, Dogma wet his lips as he gathered enough of his mind to speak.

“Um–” was the first thing that came out of Dogma’s mouth, and Tup and Fives both looked at him with such soft, loving eyes, that he could feel himself melt under the weight of their regard, the unfettered _want_ making his knees even more weak than they already were.  He wobbled, and Fives arms came back to catch him securely.  Dogma looked down at the floor, and then back over to the stew-pot on the stove. “—What about dinner?”

“What about dinner?” Fives asked, amused, voice deep with arousal. Dogma’s face felt like it was on fire.  He couldn’t look at either of his… lovers? as he answered.

“Isn’t it supposed to come _before_ dessert?”


End file.
